Pray, pillage and burn
by Zerbinetta
Summary: When Hayder teams up with blood mages to double-cross her, Isabela is forced to masquerade as a Chantry sister until the authorities can sort out her troubles. Short fic, based on the plot of Sister Act.
1. Chapter 1

Utter silliness. I blame Alan Menken and his awesome soundtrack for Sister Act: the Musical. I was in the middle of deciding whether or not to have more DA2 characters appear in TBT, kept listening to the music and at first I thought it would be cool if it was about Hawke… but oh, how much better could things be if an even more unlikely protagonist was sucked into that plotline.

This will be a short fic, up to five chapters maximum. I just need to get it out of my system.

Neither DA nor Sister Act belong to me, though I'm sure Izzy wouldn't mind me borrowing her to play for a while.

**o.O.o**

**One**

**o.O.o**

Isabela was cursing more than even a sailor should, though a captain's pride kept the worse of the expletives in the firm confines of her mind. Today was going to go down as the worst day of her life, without question.

Things had started promising enough. Just another odd job for Castillon, which generally meant high risk, low profile and a big fat reward at the end of it. Exactly her kind of work, no matter what it might involve. Casavir had voiced some concerns about working for the man so often – not even a month had passed since the last time the Antivan had hired them last – but otherwise, her crew had been jolly, satisfied by a night on the town before the next trip and eager for some coin.

Then, her _stupidly accurate_ gut feeling just had to interfere with her good entrepreneurial sense one night before the journey and she had to go sniffing around to hit up Hayder for some information about this task. Professionally, of course; while Isabela had no qualms about having anyone who struck her fancy sink an anchor or two into her port, the man gave her the creeps. Hayder had insisted on being sent along to make sure that she didn't dally or make any side trips; apparently, this was a matter of some urgency.

She waited until nightfall to stack the deck in her favor a bit – Hayder was a drinker and not one with nearly as much grace in holding his liquor as she was. Then, certain that the hour was late enough for his memory to be hazy the next day, she put her best laissez-faire expression on and strode into his room at the tavern as if it were her own.

That was when she had found her boss's number two almost literally in bed with a bunch of blood mages who were attempting to prove their loyalty to him by trying to dominate Casavir – her most trusted lieutenant – into sabotaging the mission in a manner that would put all the blame on her.

Needless to say, it wasn't an entirely pleasant scene. Especially when they noticed her.

Isabela hadn't lived as long as she had by not knowing the odds of survival in a life-or-death situation. Smuggling and piracy, with a steady crew at her back? No problem. Here, Hayder's men outnumbered hers, she herself was facing down about ten blood mages, that bastard's guard and the son-of-a-bitch himself with no one to draw attention away.

It would have been honorable to fight to the death for this betrayal or nobly stand her ground. But then again, who was she kidding – proud she might be, able to bite back insults when necessary too, but she wasn't stupid. She had reached for the small smoke bomb on her belt without hesitation and dropped it straight in the middle of the little murderous circle before you could say shiver-me-timbers.

Isabela decided she hated that phrase as she had to hightail to the nearest and most convenient hideaway. Running away wasn't the most glorious retreat, but no one ever said that a pirate's life was one of glory.

**o.O.o**

"Miss, you really need to calm down."

"That's captain to you, darling. Just because my ship isn't here to vouch for me doesn't mean you can be lenient in etiquette, you know."

Carver Hawke was having a decidedly non-good day.

Oh, it had started well enough. The bad ones always did.

After much convincing, he had managed to convince Aveline to give him a tentative recommendation to become a guardsman. Now, as a corporal of the local peacekeeping unit, he was finally allowed to make some decisions of his own. For extra credit with his superiors, he had volunteered to take watch at the guardhouse on an uneventful night.

And it had been uneventful, right up till the point that a dark-skinned woman in the most outrageously scandalous outfit he had ever seen barged in through the front door, claiming that she needed the guard's assistance. Carver would have immediately pegged her for a prostitute, were it not for the obviously well-crafted gold-hilted daggers strapped to her back, a swashbuckler's bandana around her head and dirt-stained boots with various odds and ends attached.

He would have preferred a dock prostitute, really. Such cases were at least straightforward. Instead, he was now saddled with a shady pirate wench who claimed her partners had double-crossed her or something of the sort. A smuggling deal, no doubt, but the woman remained tight-lipped on anything that didn't concern her insistence that her life was in peril.

Lucky, lucky day.

"You do know that Kirkwall authorities have been looking diligently for this Hayder you mention." Carver had dug up some reports on these people – everyone seemed much too afraid to mention anything directly, but there were signs. "He is wanted for smuggling, piracy, several accounts of attempted murder-"

Irritatingly, the pirate woman shrugged, still seated in the lieutenant's chair at the watch post as if she owned the place. Carver had to really force himself to ignore the way she made her bosom heave in a practiced manner without even trying.

"Occupational hazards if you don't know how to play the business." she drawled, unfazed. "My current problem is, kiddo, that the son-of-a-bitch has my men, my ship and my money, all set to pin his incompetence on me. Right now, the only thing that should concern you is his little dalliance with those blood mages, no?"

The testimony of an associate this close to the top of the chain would be invaluable to Aveline, let alone his career. But Carver tried to be less rash than usual and weighted his options. It wasn't his job to hunt blood mages – the templars would have his head if he tried, successfully or no. Besides, even he knew better than to charge off alone.

"I need to alert Knight-Commander Meredith about the situation." he said finally. Templars were much better equipped for this. Maker knew the lyrium turned most of their minds into mushrooms anyway. "And I'll get the captain to have her guards arrest Hayder's men on the basis of your testimony and, hopefully, proof of these allegations."

That didn't sit well with the pirate. "Are you crazy? Hayder's out for blood and he won't hesitate to sink my ship just to get me out in the open! You can't afford to wait like this! The guard claims to defend and protect the people, right? So," Here, she crossed her legs with a wolfish grin that alerted Carver to the sweat pouring down his temple. "Protect me."

Her type obviously knew their way around the docks and slums well, so if she was willing to throw her lot with the guard like this, it had to be quite serious. That meant that anywhere in Lowtown was out and Hightown… well…

Carver's face brightened up. There was one place where no one would _ever_ look for a woman like this…

"Very well, ma'am." Still not good enough, if the pirate's pout was anything to go by, but a little better, since he didn't get corrected this time. "I know just where you'll be safe until the time to testify comes."

**o.O.o**

She had been so very wrong.

The double-cross was nothing compared to this hell. Now her day was complete, Isabela huffed, watching the corporal explain her situation to the Grand Cleric.

The Chantry. The idiot had taken her into the depths of Hightown with the intention to conceal her somewhere. She had hoped that this would involve the very barracks of the guard, where she would be both well protected and quite amused, with the supply of fresh and sexually frustrated men to take her pick from. It would have been glorious. But instead, here she was, before the statue of Andraste, and this guard-less pit was supposed to be her hiding place.

The Knight-Commander arrived with two templars in tow a little later, and was currently observing her in a manner that spoke very clearly about what she thought of the pirate. Isabela was entertaining herself a bit by sending a saucy wink or two towards the uncomfortable-looking helmeted men behind her, but it wasn't meant to last.

The corporal finished his tale and the blonde warrior wrinkled her nose a little.

"And you expect that the testimony of this… person… will be reliable, guardsman?"

Isabela wasn't at all offended; given how uptight the templar woman looked, she wouldn't have trusted a pirate in her shoes either.

"We've never had a person on the inside, Knight-Commander. With Isabela's help, we could clean up at least part of the docks – put those Antivans out of business, if nothing else." the corporal was explaining. "Ban them for cooperation with blood mages."

"Easy there!" Isabela interjected, catching up. "I came to you because I expect to be rid of Hayder and his goons. I never promised putting anyone out of business."

"You agreed to aid the guard the moment you came seeking protection, smuggler." Never let it be said that Meredith minced words. "I believe that the bargain the corporal is suggesting is to have the point of your involvement with these outlaws waived in exchange for your cooperation. I doubt that your testimony will have much weight beyond what you've already told us. Consider it a courtesy that I don't order your arrest this very instant."

"Now, Meredith, we promise sanctuary to all those under the Maker's gaze." Even Isabela's sneer couldn't faze the Knight-Commander, but a few gentle words from the Grand Cleric were enough to pacify her. "This woman has been brought here under the banner of friendship and faith. We cannot turn her out when her life is in danger."

Isabela's belief in the Maker was just about as strong as her faith in her Qunari upbringing; when it was useful, it was entirely easy to be devoted. When not… "I'm grateful for your support, your grace, but I'm not sure how you can protect me against a band of mercenaries." she said, tossing a glare at the corporal. "And I fail to see how this benefits my men. They could be being blood-drained as we speak."

"My men will deal with this abuse of magic." Meredith interjected. "So far, you have some value alive and, from what you say, none of your former associates is a Maker-fearing Andrastian. Here, no one will look for you."

"They won't have to look." Isabela countered, leaning against the wall a little to properly display her magnificently outlandish attire in this pious setting. "I won't sit in a cell and wait for something to happen while my men and property are in danger."

"A cell won't be necessary." The Grand Cleric noted while the corporal groaned a little at this stalemate. "There is the possibility of hiding in plain sight. It will be difficult for both sides, but we will be saving more than one soul by helping the misfortunates in the docks."

Isabela blinked. "I don't follow."

"Until the investigation is over, I would be willing to take you in as a Sister of the faith, young woman." Elthina proclaimed. It would have seemed like a great joke, if she didn't look so completely solemn and serious. "For all intents and purposes, you will be one of us."

Meredith actually almost spluttered. "Grand Cleric, isn't it against the Maker's commandments to lie?"

"The Maker advises us to love and protect others. And I doubt He would be greatly offended by having a new Sister among us, in any capacity. Perhaps it might not be a lie in the end."

Isabela had one word for that: no.

"You can't be serious about this." She thus rounded up on the weakest link of the triumvirate; the corporal.

"You asked for protection; we're protecting you." He seemed to be enjoying himself far too much, looking decidedly less cute by the minute. "It'll most probably be just for a few days anyway. You can handle that no problem."

"The Chantry or a detention cell, smuggler." Meredith added to emphasize the point. "Your choice."

And so, Isabela's worst day extended into her worst week.


	2. Chapter 2

Apologies for the huge gap – I finally have time to continue my fanfic writing. If anyone still wants to see this story continued, please review/PM me and I will go on writing the story with the most support.


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